The Allegedly Incorruptible Knight and the Almost Complete Innocent
by Belle D'Arcy
Summary: ...Or the few dozen times Jenkins and Cassandra almost met in the middle. Scattered all around the first 3 seasons of the show. Between the scenes, after every episode curtain fall, in the space between the tic and the toc. The untold story of Ca-skins, and Jenk-ass and all their various body parts. Mostly fluff and hurt/comfort. May include smut later. Work in progress, 2017.
1. Season 2, Ep 7 – Image of image

It were the final minutes of the battle, that short time between coming up with a plan and Eve jumping off a roof. Eve and Stone were fighting Dorian in the lobby, or were they fighting each other? **Ezekiel** was busy gathering the bystander photos from the cloud and manipulating them to fit the image of the Colonel. Cassandra's head on his shoulders was getting heavy and she seemed unimpressed that he was somehow Photoshoping photos using just the keyboard. As much as he liked her, she smelled faintly of puke and he kind of wished she would leave him to it. Time was of the essence, after all – Dorian was known to be a frivolous, short-tempered chap.

'How are we doing, Mr Jones?', Jenkins said as he entered the dimply lit lair.

'I'd be a lot better if there were batteries in that computer mouse. I doubt that Vogue's retouch artist does it all on a keyboard.'

'I'll be sure to leave a note for the criminal mastermind.' Jenkins sneered. He approached and laid a hand on Cassandra's shoulder. 'Care to join me for a bit of fresh air, Miss Cillian? Apparently this may take a while.'

Ezikiel just pretended he didn't hear. It wasn't the first time Jenkins underestimated him. While Jenkins was helping Cassandra up, he just muttered under his breath: 'Five.'

'What?', Cassandra raised her head but was distracted by Jenkins who offered her his arm and lead her towards the balcony. Ezikiel hadn't even noticed it in the dark, but there it was: a small balcony with a stone bench and another weird-looking spiky plant.

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The air was chilly and **Cassandra** snuggled closer to Jenkins on the bench. He was sitting on her left, just as any knight would have done to keep his sword a safe distance from his lady. In this case, he was closer to the door and thus between her and any possible danger. Or so Cassandra's fuzzy thoughts went. Ever since she learnt about him, the real him, she couldn't help but see him as the dashing knight he once was. He had already, very recently, wielded a sword and saved their lives. She envied Flin for being an eyewitness but she imagined he didn't pay nearly enough attention. Besides, he claimed he didn't remember. What she wouldn't do to see Jenkins in action, his silver hair full of wind and sun...

She sighed and let her head fall on Jenkins' shoulder. His hair... Memories from earlier in the evening started coming back to her. Did she really say she wanted to touch his hair? Her soft chuckle drew Jenkins' attention and she felt him turn his head towards her, expectantly.

'I've never been drunk before,' Cassandra said. 'I'm not sure if tonight counts, but I definitely discovered new things about myself. Like, I hallucinate even more than usual, and...' She stopped herself, self-conscious.

'Yes, Cassandra?' Jenkins' voice was soft in her ear.

He rarely called her that and it was always a treat. Like a cup of hot chocolate after a long walk in the snow. Cassandra suddenly felt brave. She reached out her wounded arm, which still throbbed painfully, reached around his face and placed her palm gently on the back of his head. His hair _was_ magnificent, all soft, and warm, and comforting.

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 **Jenkins** forced himself to stand still. 'I... Well...hmm...' His brow furrowed but he closed his mouth and just let it happen. It had been a long time since he had let anyone touch him but this was innocent enough. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation of her fingers slowly stroking his hair. He felt the handkerchief wrapped around her palm and for a second experienced almost physical pain, thinking about the wound underneath it. Being immortal (semi, as he constantly reminded himself), he was deeply affected by how frail and temporary human bodies were. He shook his head slightly. No, he'd rather concentrate on the luxurious feel of her fingers threading through his hair.

Her arm was just inches away from his face and he caught a scent of her perfume. It was unexpected and he reacted on instinct. He reached for her hand and pulled it to his lips to lay a kiss on the inside of her wrist. Cassandra stiffened slightly but didn't pull away, and Jenkins held her hand against his heart. His steady, if a bit quickened heartbeat seemed to lul her, because her arm grew heavy in his and her breathing became slower.

'I am being extremely clever up here and there's no one to stand around looking impressed. What's the point in having you all?', Jones' voice came from Dorian's lair. 'Jenkins? Cassandra? Come get this to Baird before she totally freaks out.'

Jenkins sighed.

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 **Cassandra** distinctly remembered hearing voices, some kind of commotion and finally, being laid down on the bench and then silence. She would later wake up in the Annex, warm and safe, with just the faint memory of two strong arms and a loose strand of silver hair.


	2. Season 2, ep 6: Infernal contract pt 1

Hi all! I'm sorry I haven't been around much, but I'm back now. Here's the next (previous?) story. Those will be shorter for now, but will come out more regularly. After all, the new season's out ;-)

This one takes place after S02E06 The infernal contract.

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 **Jenkins** partially wished he had stayed a bit longer with the colonel. She was unusually warm and that was rare for a soldier. He still remembered his warrior days and would sometimes get angry when someone excused their harsh, disinterested manner with their military education. Sure, Jenkins could be both harsh and disinterested himself sometimes (okay, all right, often), but at least he didn't try to explain himself. And when it really mattered, he liked to think, he could still be galant and respectful. Baird was like that and he couldn't help but enjoy her company. She was easy to talk to, which couldn't be said about the others. They didn't get him. And how could they, really?

He returned to the main room of the Annex and saw them still asleep. The day had been tough but he felt something he hadn't felt in a long time. He felt useful. He felt like he still mattered. He had finally put his immortality to good use.

After saving them from the gas and giving them that awful but wonderfully practical elixir, he had instructed them to sleep. Not only for their own good, but so he could have some peace and quiet too. Now that he saw them, they did indeed look peaceful. Cassandra was lying on top of the bedding and Jenkins couldn't help but let his eyes linger on her. Her soft shoulders, her tiny waist, her feminine hips... He looked away, ashamed and irritated, and went to fetch a light blanket. When he came back, he walked around to cover her with it and caught a glimpse of the inside of her thighs.

He immediately remembered what it felt like to have her in his arms when he carried her out of harm's way earlier. She had said that she was okay and could walk, but he would have none of it. He had noticed the looks Ezekiel and Jones gave him: the one just a slight twinkle, the other a concerned shadow. They really were like her brothers, and Cass was the perfect middle child: clever, artistic and diplomatic. Was he supposed to be the father figure in the picture? "No," Jenkins shook his head, "most definitely not." Stone was actively trying to befriend him, Jones despised each of his wrinkles and gentlemanly manners, and Cassandra... Well, she was difficult to read and it puzzled him.

Jenkins hadn't realised that he has said that last sentence out loud. But then he heard a soft whisper: "I puzzle myself too." Cassandra was mumbling, eyes closed, still half asleep and a bit high from the gas. "There's a tingling here," she continied and tried to move her arm to show him. It proved too heavy to lift but Jenkins had heard more than enough. "Please rest, Miss Cillian, it's important." She nodded almost imperseptibly and smiled, eyes still closed. "Yes, papa bear."

Jenkins went to make himself a new cup of tea and prepare a light breakfast for when the others woke up. He was more puzzled than ever but he certainly hoped he had heard Cassandra wrong. He was too old and far too cynical to do otherwise.

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 **Cassandra** had been spending more time with Jenkins recently. It wasn't only that she was instinctively attracted to magic and Jenkins was the only one who had lived it. She wanted to learn from HIM. She couldn't quite explain it. And he certainly wasn't making it easier. He was evasive, constantly unavailable and often looked bored. She got into the habit of just following him around, trying to remain invisible and not bother him. Usually he would eventually take a deep breath, roll his eyes, sigh and ask her to join him in whatever he was doing.

Just the other day she had caught him cleaning the tiles. He was a funny sight, for sure. Maybe it was the apron. Maybe it was the expression on his face when he saw her.

"Miss Cillian, may I help you?"

"Yes, well, I was looking for that book about..." She crouched down next to him. "What is that greenish bluish thing?"

"It's called... Nevermind, it's a potion usually used to stop a blocking spell."

"And you use it on the tiles?"

"What can I say, I was raised rather frugal."

Cassandra chuckled, and then froze, an alarmed look on her face. She wasn't quite sure he was joking. But Jenkins gave her one of his rare smiles and she felt a tingling in her stomach. That was the second time this week. Cass stood up abruptly and excused herself. She was just about to close the door when Jenkins called after her, "What book was that?" She pretended she hadn't heard him. She couldn't admit that she had no idea.

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"Eww, You are cooking it?"

"No! HE's making it! The Chupacabra! He's awesome!"

"Is that safe?"

"As long as we keep it away from the goats on level four."

Cassandra had always been a big softie. So just the though of goats, and gone was the momentary tinge of jealousy she felt when she heard that Jacob had been hanging out with Jenkins and Jenkins had actually helped him with something. He never helped her, she had to nag him for days. But then again, perhaps so did Jacob. And why did she even care?

The day proved good. She got to meet a devil, try a locating spell and even wear unreasonably high heels and pretend to be Jenkins' eye candy. She enjoyed that part a bit too much perhaps. But now it was over. She was going to die of gas poisoning in a very unheroic way. At least she had her friends around. As if that was any consolation! She fell to the ground and was just about to lose consciousness when she heard Sess' suprised, "The Contract cannot kill what cannot be killed?"

"Now you're starting to get it," a familiar voice said, very close to her. Then it came even closer and whispered directly in her ear, "Are you okay"

Cassandra did her best to look brave and walk on her own but after two hesitant steps she reached for Jenkins' arm and grabbed it. He responded by picking her up and carrying her out while behind them Jacob and Ezekiel slowly followed.

The rest of the evening was a bit of a blur. Cassandra had failed to cover herself with the sheet and could feel the draft on her bare legs. It might have been minutes or hours later when, half asleep, she heard Jenkins say something and herself respond. Before she could remember what she had said, sleep engulfed her once more.


End file.
